NeverWinter through her eyes
by KA
Summary: First-person recounting of NeverWinter Nights seen through the eyes of the human wizard Malkat, and her idealistic half-elven companion Dil.
1. Prologue

It smelt of burning flesh.  The city gates had been closed, allowing passage to none but a select few officials.  All districts were quarantined; some for the purpose of keeping the Wailing Death in, and others to keep it out.  NeverWinter had never before seen such blight upon its lands; the plague had hit hard and fast, cutting down nearly the whole of the resident population and sending the remainder into a state of frenzy.  What was left of the city guard were scattered about the city core and four adjoining districts, their work turned from passive protection to running chaotic errands.  The majority of them spent their time loading plague-ridden corpses into wagons and building unceremonious funeral pyres helter-skelter about the streets; the others gathered in tight groups by the district gates, staring out at their ruined city with dirty, tired faces and listless eyes.  Mourning families and desperate, dying individuals roamed the streets like ghosts, most wailing indefinitely and some begging their fellow diseased for help they knew they couldn't get.  Others still barricaded themselves in their homes or sought refuge in the unwavering arms of Tyr.

The Hall of Justice – the single religious establishment of the city – stood like a beacon of hope in the eyes of the population.  Within, Tyr's faithful offered help to the sick in whatever way they could; exempt from the plague, the clergymen and women would offer reassuring words and a compassionate ear to the dying.  That was unfortunately all they _could offer, for they had soon discovered that their clerical talents could do nothing to counter the rampant disease._

This peculiar impotence was the lead concern of city officials, as it raised a most poignant set of questions: was the Wailing Death an unnatural disease, an artificial creation of sorts?  And if so, who was behind it and why?  These questions weighed heavily, in particular, upon the regent Lord Nasher and his right hand Lady Aribeth deTylmarande, a paladin of Tyr.  Both worked together to defeat the Wailing Death and find its originator; a group of rare creatures were sent to the city from WaterDeep, creatures with which, with the knowledge of the Waterdhavian archmage Khelben Blackstaff, Nasher and Aribeth would be able to devise a cure for the plague.  

Despite the substantial ray of hope that the arcane recipe represented, there was still much to be done within and for NeverWinter.  And too much, at that, for Aribeth and Nasher to tackle alone.  With Tyr's brotherhood tied to dying and the militia straining to keep the city from becoming a gargantuan graveyard, summons were sent to certain residents in hopes of finding them alive – and willing to work.  The situation was dire, and there was no shame in asking for help outside city council…after all, NeverWinter was the peoples' as much as it was Nasher's. 


	2. Chapter 1

The guard watched me as I approached the gate, wondering if I was the one he had been informed of. In my right hand I held a piece of parchment paper, and so the guard assumed that I was indeed one of the summoned. Of course, I admit, I didn't look like much; fairly young, negligently done-up brown hair, heavy robes and a severely weather-beaten cloak. The butt of a heavy crossbow protruded from over my shoulder. The guard watched until I came to a halt before the gate.

"State your name and purpose!" He said at once, drawing himself up before me. He had barely enough time to get a good look at my face before I slammed the paper in my hand up against the gate bars in front of his face. I was in not in the cheeriest of moods and I could only hope that he understood and gave me no trouble.

"My name is Malkat. I'm to see Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande." I answered flatly from behind the sheet, "Let me through.". 

The guard eyed the note in front of him and recognized the seal of the paladin Aribeth, "Of course, madam." He replied and moved to the side to pull the gate release lever. As soon as the gate opened wide enough, I swept through and strode off into the city core. It was my first taste of freedom since the plague had begun. For a moment, the guard watched my retreating back.

"I always said all the weird ones are from Blacklake…" He mumbled to himself and shook his head before returning to the release lever.

Just out of earshot, I wrinkled my nose as I strode through the streets. Stacks of burning corpses were almost everywhere and the stench they gave off was most foul; it was thick and nauseating, and there was no getting away from it. The odor was not so strong in Blacklake, though curiously, there were less people in the streets there. The Blacklake district was the only district in NeverWinter that hadn' t yet been touched by the plague; ironically, it was there that all the nobles and wealthier families resided. The moment news of the Wailing Death entered public attention, Blacklake barricaded itself to keep safe; the people there lived like prisoners in their own homes. 

The last few weeks had been tedious and lonely for me. As a necromancer, I was inherently immune to diseases of any kind – which was the primary reason for my summons -- and so I could not fear for my life as the Wailing cut through NeverWinter. I could not venture through town like a tourist on vacation in order to keep busy and satisfy my curiosities, as the guards watching over all the gates throughout the city would not let me pass. One would think that it wouldn't be so bad in Blacklake considering that the plague was absent there, but that was not the case. The district had just about died; there were no people in the streets except for a select few militia patrols, and the shops weren't open. Everyone was hoarding their food and playing dead. In my humble opinion, the summons from Aribeth didn't come soon enough.

Though I was relieved to see life again – even if it wasn't normal, healthy life by any means, I did not dawdle. I kept a brisk, quick stride on my way to the Hall of Justice where Aribeth awaited my arrival. I did not make eye contact with anyone and stared mostly straight ahead; the sick roaming the streets like zombies were distracting and eerily surreal. The endless rhetoric of doomsayers and the shrill cries of mourners turned what was once a pleasant city core into something acutely depressing. It was a wonder the soldiers of the militia were not committing suicide after weeks of bathing in the ambient misery.

In the central-eastern part of the core sprawled the dignified Hall of Justice; a few soldiers loitered at the base of the wide polished-stone staircase leading up to its entrance. As I hurried by, the men exchanged looks and returned to their idle conversation.

Inside, the lighting was bright and the room was abuzz with action. Along the walls to the left and right of the doorway lay a dozen or more ailing citizens being looked after by a handful of stressed nurses. Directly ahead, on a raised dias surrounded by hanging tapestries depicting the marking of Tyr, an armored woman and two men argued heatedly about something that I could barely make out over the cacophony in the room. Sprinkled about, seemingly-healthy people stood around and talked amongst each other.

I blinked and smirked, "Wow…life." I cooed to myself. After standing at the door for a good while and just taking in the sights and sounds of other human beings, I moved through the crowd and headed for the armored woman standing on the dias ahead. As I approached, one of the men the woman was speaking to looked my way and gestured.

"Your lackey is here, Aribeth." He spat and watched as I came to a halt beside the paladin.

Aribeth immediately stopped talking and turned to face me, her youthful elven face flushed and her eyes wide, "Oh thank Tyr you've come, Malkat!" She gasped. Behind her, the same man who spoke earlier rolled his eyes. Aribeth let out a pained sigh, "The situation has grown terribly dire. The creatures brought here from the Waterdeep are gone! They've fled into the city!" She cried.

Not one for drama, I frowned, "Fled? Why?" I asked, "Weren't you keeping them in cages or something of the sort?" Beside Aribeth, the man who as of yet had been quiet stepped in. I blinked idly. It was an elf – and he looked terribly meek. I had never been fond of elves because I hadn't yet met one that suited my tastes, and _this_ particular fellow was as far from pleasing as I could fathom. Simply put, he was girlish. 

"We were attacked last night!" He explained hastily, as if the world was going to end in the next minute. I raised an eyebrow at the little man and nodded as if to hurry his story along, but Aribeth jumped back in before he could muster another word. Thank the Gods. Another word out of _that_ one and I would have been forced to rub my temples.

"Yesterday evening a group of spellcasters just…" She gestured with her hands, "…appeared in here and attacked myself and the others." She frowned and shook her head, "The attackers were killed, but in the mess we lost the Waterdhavian beasts! The attack was obviously a distraction so that the creatures in the infirmary could be dealt with, but…" She sighed and shook her head again, "…anyway, there was nothing on the spellcasters that hinted at their identity or anything else. It's very frustrating…those creatures…we need them more than anything!"

The task ahead was now painfully clear to me. I leaned forward, "So you would like me to recover them, yes?" I asked, eyebrows arched. Near Aribeth, the human man glared at me.

"Your powers of deduction are astonishing." He drawled flatly. I met his gaze; had I not been in such a bad mood, I would have been amused by the quip. Cynicism and sarcasm usually hit the mark with me. Unfortunately, I was not in a good mood…and this guy would have done best to hold his tongue.

"Listen, if—" I started but Aribeth quickly cut me off with a wave of her hand. A good thing too, because I was just about to deliver the world's finest verbal beating.

"Please, ignore his insolence." She said tiredly, "He's worked up about everything that's been going on lately and I can't hold it against him." Her eyes went wide for a moment, "I might as well introduce us; my apologies for being rude. This is Desther, Watchknight of Helm." She gestured to the insolent one and then to the elf, "And this is Fenthick." She motioned to me, "And this, gentlemen, is Malkat – a necromancer from Blacklake." 

"What?!" Desther cried, startling the whole group. He came forward and pointed an accusating finger at me, "I wasn't informed of her _arcane leanings_!" He turned a foul glare over at Aribeth, "We hire villains now?! What is this madness, Aribeth?!" He grimaced, "Do you mean to tell me that you _trust_ this…this _rabble_?" He towered over the paladin now, a great armored dog in scarlet and gold. 

Though intensely offended – and admittedly a little impressed at the gall of this man --, I remained quiet. Fenthick – that disturbingly effeminite man, him -- was aghast. Aribeth, however, took the heat. Bless her elven heart.

"You will keep your prejudices to yourself while you are under my command, priest!" She snapped, her hands balling into fists at her sides, "Who I deal with is _my_ business, and _my _business alone!" Desther sneered contemptuously.

"This is costing us money, Aribeth." He growled, "If you pour the contents of the city's coffers into a mercenary's pocket, there will be Hell to pay, woman!" He drew back, "And besides, the Helmites have the situation well under control. Our blessings are offering the hope the people need to make it through this plight." He shook his head and waved a hand dismissively at me, "You've no need for the help of opportunistic, traitorous street rats."

My eyes were wide as saucers. Opportunistic? Definitely. Traitorous? Maybe. But a _street rat_?! How could this man be a priest? Was the plague making him this way in truth, or was he just a complete asshole? And if Tyr's clerics could not undo the Wailing, then what on earth made him think Helm's could? Priest or not, Desther had just made my blacklist.

"Enough!" Aribeth cried, glaring hotly at Desther, "Firstly, your priests' blessings have offered me no concrete evidence of helping anyone! Second, the city's coffers are _not_ of your concern. And third, _I_ will be the judge of those who are traitors and those who are not!" She took a breath, "Is that clear?".

Desther stared at her for a long moment before turning to stare flatly at me. Beside him, Fenthick cleared his throat and rested a gentle hand on Aribeth's arm.

"Please, love…" He said quietly, brow furrowed in thought, "…you'll really have to stop this infighting. It's disgusting and childish, and ever so counterproductive." He patted her arm, "NeverWinter is what really matters just now, hmm?" He smiled at Aribeth and the woman nodded solemnly.

I watched the scene with amusement, wondering why in the world Aribeth's lover was meddling in city affairs. Was he just a peacemaker between she and Desther? Was he part of the Wailing Death investigation or just tagging along for the ride? Either way, he apparently had enough influence over Aribeth to prove an interesting character. Despite his questionable appearance. But anyway, back to business.

"So, once again." I said after a while, trying my very best to not stare back at Desther, who had not yet turned his eyes away from my person, "Am I to retrieve the Waterdhavian creatures?". 

Aribeth nodded and seemed to compose herself, "That is your task – at least for now. It's a very pressing matter as I'm sure you'll understand." She gathered her wits for a moment, "It's impossible for any of the beasts to have left the city, and so they are still around somewhere. Bring them to me dead or alive, I don't care…as long as you get them back."

Fair enough. I nodded, "I will do as you ask." I replied, then I finally caught Desther's eye and grinned, "Can I bring Desther?" I asked mockingly. I couldn't help myself – he just seemed to have _such_ a problem with me that it was almost comical. The Helmite made a disgraceful sound. 

"Go to hell." He spat and continued his examination of me.

"Oh, you've just reminded me!" Aribeth piped up suddenly, "I have summoned four others like you and they will be on the lookout for the creatures as well. Should any of the creatures be found, I will let you know through this." She produced a small etched coin from a leather pouch on her belt and handed it to me.

I took the coin and examined it. It was made of simple copper and had the images of four creatures engraved upon it: a beautiful nymph, an intellect devourer that looked like a brain on four legs, a snake-woman yuan-ti, and a bird of sorts. 

"What's the bird?" I asked curiously, somewhat ashamed that I didn't know. I silently blamed it on the size of the engraving.

Aribeth smiled, "It's a cockatrice." She answered pointedly. 

Making a mental note of that, I slipped the coin into my robes, "So how does the coin work?" I asked.

Aribeth made a ring with her thumb and forefinger, "If a creature if returned to me, the matching engraving will disappear." She explained, motioning to her imaginary coin, "So you'll want to check it now and then so you know what it is you're looking for." She dropped her hands to her sides and nodded, "Alright, that's about it. I wish you luck, Malkat. And if you need anything, just let me know." 

I nodded to her and headed back through the crowd and out the door. Just as I pulled the door closed behind me, I heard Desther blow up at Aribeth again. 


	3. Chapter 2

So with that over and done with, it looked like this:  I was now the sworn enemy of some guy who didn't even know me and was supposed to be on my side, a bunch of magic-users had tried to rob or kill or free the Waterdhavian cure creatures, and now I was on a bounty hunt for those same creatures, who had fled into the city.  Needless to say what really interested me in all that was the identity of the people who attacked Aribeth and the others – and not to mention what their motives were.  At that point my best guess was that some band of desperate idiots had decided that it was a good idea to steal the creatures and fabricate a cure the Wailing on their own.  Yes, I realize how stupid that sounds.

Upon exiting the Hall of Justice, I plopped down on the stone steps and stared out at the city core.  Obviously, the creatures weren't going to be right smack dab in the core, as the militia would have already found them by now.  I mean how do you miss a brain on legs?  Or a six-foot snake that talks?  I briefly wondered where the other four people summoned by Aribeth were lurking, and took the copper coin I'd just received out of my robes.  When I looked down at it, all four creature engravings were still present.  For a moment I imagined the coin broken and unable to do what it was meant to do, indefinitely leaving me on a wild goose chase.

Frowning, I tucked the coin away and got to my feet.  It was still morning and there was thick cloudcover overhead, which made the city particularly dark, what with it being bathed in the shadows of Castle Never to the North and the towering gates and walls all around.  It was perfect thieving conditions.  As a matter of fact, I was quite certain that a petty thief could get a handsome ransom if he managed to get his hands on one of those Waterdhavians…

Which inspired me to visit the Docks district.  I hurried through the core once again, making sure to be as oblivious to beggars and doomsayers as I had been before, and made my way to the aforementioned district's gate.  The two guards posted there watched me draw closer, taking on one of their patented authoritarian stances.

"Halt!"  The one on the right called out to me.  I didn't stop but walked right up to him and whipped out my trusty summons letter.  I held it up like a cross before a vampire.

"I'm looking for the Waterdhavians."  I explained shortly as the guard eyed my letter.  When he nodded, I lowered the note, "Can I ask you some questions?"  I inquired.  It took everything not to laugh.  I had never thought I'd one day know what it feels like to be in the militia. 

The guard nodded again, "Sure."  He agreed.  I frowned up at him.

"Care to tell me what it's like in there?"  I asked, thumbing over at the district gate.  The guard smirked.

"There be blasted thieves and muggers and thugs and whatnot all over th'place!"  He exclaimed, "Half o' them is wrought with the plague, too."  He snorted, "Not that it's a crying shame 'er anything; I say let the bastards die.  Blasted scumbags."  He scowled.

I blew a strand of stray hair from my face, "O…kay…"  I nodded and then raised an eyebrow, "Heard any odd rumours or anything from in there as of late?"  I pressed.  I prayed for him to nod and tell me that he had heard something about a guy right on the other side of the gate that was in the process of getting his eyes poked out by a wild cockatrice.

His expression turned contemptuous, "Pffft.  You think I go in there to chit chat, lass?  Ha!"  He moved to the gate release lever and pulled it, "You wanna know what's goin' on in there, you go in there!"  He called to me and waved me off.  

I held my tongue and walked through the gate, which was instantly closed at my heels with a loud metallic grind and an even louder clank.  

I should have stayed in the city core.  The Docks district was not at all as I remembered it; granted, it was never all that pretty, but neither had it been derelict.  Now, however, derelict didn't even begin to describe it.  In my direct sight, I could see houses and storage buildings that had obviously been broken into gauging by the deadpan gaze of broken windows and doors left ajar.  Speckling the street corners and near heaps of scattered trash burned small campfires, some around which huddled gaunt-faced men or dirty old women.  There were corpses in the streets, some of them cleared off to the side and some not.  Rodents skittered about, darting beneath stacks of crates or splintered barrels along the side of houses.  It smelt like a mixture of wet dog and decay.  The stagnant lack of wind made it easy to hear the garbled shouts of men and the occasional scream or lament of a half dozen women.  I could also hear the faint tune of music from a good distance off.

When the gates clanked shut at my back, a man sitting by a small fire nearby got up and took off a dead run, disappearing inside a ramshackle house a few feet away.  I watched him go with a look on my face that conveyed about as much comprehension as that of a fish staring out at the world from within its glass prison.  Did I look that bad?  What the hell did I do?  Resigning to the fact that the man was probably a nutcase, I took a step forward and kicked the side of something soft.  It was a corpse.

I looked down at it and frowned, and upon closer inspection I noticed it was a soldier from the militia.  If this guy was here, than perhaps there were others elsewhere in the district.  Other _live ones, of course.  Maybe they could tell me more about this place and help me out._

I was about to move on when an idea struck me.  I looked back down at the corpse.  If the rest of the district could do it, why couldn't I?  And it's not like Aribeth gave me any coin in advance…and then there's also the fact that I could very well end up not finding any of the Waterdhavian creatures, thus decidedly cutting my pay…   I dropped to one knee and searched the dead soldier briskly, finally finding a small leather pouch beneath his shirt.  There were a few coins inside, which I quickly snapped up and tucked into my own purse.

Feeling decidedly empowered by the sudden realization that I could indulge my temptations as I so desired, I smirked and got to my feet.  Standing not five yards in front of me was a man with a look of terrible desperation on his long face.  He wasn't moving and his eyes darted from me, to the gate at my back, to the body at my feet.  He didn't _look like a dirty thug, but he held a rapier in his hand – so I was unsure about what to think._

"I'm sorry…was this yours?"  I asked him tentatively, motioning down to the soldier's corpse.  Who knew…maybe I was 'on his territory' on something…  I watched him like a hawk, positive that he'd jump me at any second; I slowly reached back for my crossbow.

The man watched my every move; he licked his lips, "No…"  He replied slowly, staring at my hand, "…I was actually, ah…"  He paused and offered a pained smile, "…running."  He licked his lips again.  He looked like a trapped animal.

I frowned, "Running from what?"  I asked, though I barely had the time to say it before angry shouts thundered from around the nearest corner, heralded by a bright bolt of magical energy that zipped right by its intended target and collided with the wall of a nearby house.  I watched dumbfounded as a mob of five men in red came ripping around the corner, weapons drawn.

The guy in front of me turned around and took off further down the street, followed by three of the red-garbed men.  The remaining two attackers bolted for me.  Caught between a rock and a hard place (namely the two crazy guys and the district gate), I did the only thing I could do that would buy me some time.  

Like the nutcase by the fire had done when I first walked into the district, I ran into the nearest house and slammed the door shut behind me.  Of course, it swung open again.  I spotted a staircase at the back of the room, which had once been a decent kitchen, and ran for it.  I clambered up the wooden stairs two at a time and dashed into the only room up there, closing the door behind me once again.  I leaned up against it for a moment and found myself facing the nutcase from earlier.

"By the Gods have mercy!"  The man croaked, curled into a ball against the wall at the back of the room.

Downstairs the front door was smashed back against the wall and I darted away from the door I was currently leaning up against.  I backed up and started chanting one of the spells I had memorized, at the time not even completely sure of what exactly it was but positive that it would hurt.  The men in red came dashing up the stairs.  I furrowed my brow and picked up the pace, my incantation coming to an end just as the door to the room swung open and the two men dashed out at me.

The nutcase on the floor screamed to his heart's content as the two men and a good part of the stairs behind them were engulfed in flames, my fireball colliding with the attackers full-force and knocking them back.  Not wasting a second for fear of being attacked in yet another confined area, I ripped my crossbow free and fumbled around for a couple bolts.  Once they had been loaded, I ran across the partially-flaming room and towards the staircase.  

At the bottom of the stairs, one of the red-garbed men was quite dead – charred and having most likely broken his neck in the tumble.  The other man, however, though horribly burned and moaning, was still alive.  I leveled my weapon and released the trigger; once, twice, thrice.  The heavy bolts knifed past the dead man's corpse and buried themselves into the live man's chest.  Wisps of blue-white condensation snaked up from the protruding ends of the bolts; they were heavily cold-enchanted bolts of Frostbite.  My favorite.  

The sound of metal against metal rung from right outside, bringing me back to reality.  I clambered down the flaming stairs and hopped over the still-simmering corpses, then tore back out onto the streets, the hem of my robes on fire in some places.  Behind me, the nutcase that had been screaming on the top floor zipped out of the house and disappeared into the streets beyond.

A few feet away from me, two men were engaged in some serious swordplay; it was one of the men in red and the guy that had happened upon me while I was robbing the dead soldier.  Had the guy managed to fight off the other two attackers that had taken off after him?  I found myself transfixed by the fight, utterly amazed at the skill involved; both men fought with slender-bladed rapiers, though it was really difficult to make that assessment due to the fact that they moved so fast.  The man I had spoken to earlier seemed to have the offensive, and he unrelentingly drove the red-garbed man back, their swords weaving so quickly it was as though the fight had been choreographed…

Five subsequent jolts of acute pain slammed into me repeatedly, pulling me from my stupor and robbing me of breath.  I gasped and looked around, finally spotting my assailant over by the corner from behind which the red mob had first appeared.  He was in the midst of a second incantation, having just pummeled me square on with a volley of magic missiles.  

"Oh no you don't…"  I mumbled to myself and hurriedly reloaded my crossbow with shaky hands.  I raised the weapon level to my shoulder and let loose as I had only moments ago.  Two of the bolts hit home and bit into the man's shoulder and arm, and the third went wide.  Nevertheless, I had managed to disrupt his spellcasting.  When he launched into yet another incantation, I dropped my weapon and did the same.  

 Right in front of me, the intricate sword fight continued.  The man in red was on the offensive now, and he grinned as each of his strokes chewed further into his target's defenses.  He was driving the other back towards the district gate.

As my chanting was reaching its climax, and the opposing caster's was as well, I heard a cry and from the corner of my eye I saw one of the swordfighting men trip over something and fall backwards.  It was not the one in red.  I then realized that I lost the incantation race, for the caster ahead extended a hand to throw forth a jet of crackling blue lightning.

I instinctively threw myself to the ground, forgetting my own spell in the process.  I have to admit that at this point I pretty much just closed my eyes and hoped for the best.  And you know what?  Lo and behold…the best is what I got.

With me sprawled on the ground, and the man opposing the red swordsman flat on his back after having nimbly tripped over the corpse of the dead militia soldier, the only person left standing was the red swordsman.  And it was he that ate the lightning bolt.

There came a scream overhead and the slapping sound of an electrical current finding a conductor, and then my nostrils were filled with the delightful smell of burned flesh as the smoking body of the man in red dropped beside me like a rag doll.  Thank the Gods it was him and not me.  

A second later, just as I reopened my eyes, I saw a pair of boots dash by my head and I drew myself up to see what was going on.  The man that had tripped earlier on and had eluded the lightning bolt along with me was running for the remaining spellcaster, blade first.  I reached over and grabbed my crossbow from off the ground, then hauled myself to my feet and reloaded.  Cocked and ready and I fired at the mage, but the man running for him got to him first, quickly and cleanly delivering the final blow – a deep gash across the gut.  A split-second later, all three crossbow bolts buried themselves into the dying man's chest.  I watched, breathless and with immense relief, as the last red-garbed attacker collapsed to the ground in a lifeless heap.

The man with the rapier looked up from the body and turned in my direction; cockily, he spun his blade and strode towards me.  Once again unsure of where this was going, I quickly strung up three new bolts and hefted my crossbow.  I watched him approach me, warily; when he was within ten feet of me, he sheathed his sword.  I lowered my weapon.

Grinning, he halted before me and extended his hand, "Dil."  He said simply, "Thank you."

I let out a long breath and grasped his hand with my own, shaking one, "Malkat."  I replied, "You're welcome." 


	4. Chapter 3

Now that I could see him up close, it came to my attention that he was visibly a mongrel of sorts.  With his long face, lightly-pointed ears and average height, I gathered that he was half-elven.  There were many of those in NeverWinter; curiously, they were hardly ever subjects of interest.  It seemed notoriety was reserved for their pure-blooded parent races.  So I suppose it wasn't surprising to find a half blood in the Docks district, where a nobody could try his or her best at becoming a somebody – through crime, of course.  

"Sorry about…that."  Dil said uncomfortably, idly motioning to the dead man in red a few feet from where we stood.  He chuckled and ran a dirty hand through his short reddish-brown hair, "Those men just –"  He laughed, "I thought you were gonna kill me!"  He exclaimed, throwing his arms out dramatically.

I stepped back, somewhat startled by the sudden motion, "I was."  I replied, "If you so much as took one step towards me with your weapon drawn I would have."  I paused, registering the blank look on Dil's face, "So who were those men?"  I asked quickly before something unpredictable decided to happen again.

Dil looked over his shoulder then flashed me a merchant's smile, "Callik's men."  He answered, "I guess it's hunting season."  He chuckled again.

I raised an eyebrow, "Who is Callik and why are his men trying to kill you?"  I demanded at once, "And _me, for that matter?"  I added, suddenly remembering what I had done to my pursuers a few minutes ago and wondering if the staircase inside the abandoned house was still flaming.  _

A smirk pulled at the corner of Dil's mouth, "You're from outside, aren't you?"  He remarked, his eyes scanning me thoughtfully.  He narrowed his eyes, "You're with the militia?"  He asked suspiciously.

It was my turn to chuckle, "Does it matter?"  I asked in return, using the same voice he had used.

Dil drew back, his composure returning, "Not all."  He answered calmly, "I haven't seen your face before and usually, you see,"  He smiled again, "it's the same faces day after day."  His smile broadened and he placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, "So I can tell you right this instant that if you're with the militia, you'd do best to turn around and head back to the core; there's nothing you can do here, I'm afraid.  But if you're _not with the militia,"  He winked at me, "then I've got nothing to say to you because you're probably here for the same reason as the lot of us."  _

"And what reason would that be?"  I asked curiously, batting my eyelashes.  Never in my life had I felt so lost in my own city.

"Ah hell,"  Dil sighed, his hands dropping heavily to his sides, "The auction?"  He shook his head, "If you're here to investigate—"  He stopped talking when I waved my hands.

"No!"  I cried irritably, "I don't even know what the hell you're talking about!"  I sighed heavily and thumbed back at the district gates, "I've been asked by Aribeth to look for the Waterdhavian creatures that escaped her care last night."  Once again Dil's expression was blank, "I decided to come here first because I know you people are all a bunch of thieving jerks just _dying to jump on a prize that the city could pay you for."  I explained pointedly._

"So _you want to be the thieving jerk that finds these things first?"  Dil quipped dully, raising a dark eyebrow._

I paused, then grinned and nodded emphatically, "Yes!"  I cried and threw my arms out, giving Dil an incredulous stare.

The rogue watched me, thoughtful, then rubbed the back of his neck, "So…"  He tried to look nonchalant, "…how much you getting paid for this?"  

I smiled coldly, "What's it to you?"  I shot back.  Yes, this was a game…and I was going to win, dammit!

Dil looked amused but still made an effort to appear stoic, "I happen to have some information that could help you on your little treasure hunt."  He grinned, "What's it to _you?"_

I stared at him a moment before answering.  I could beat the information out of him.  He may be lying.  I had no money on me.  I could offer him a cut of what Aribeth gives me for the creatures…_if I find the creatures…and then I could cheat him out of it.  Or…_

"Would you happen to be looking for work, Dil?"  I purred, grinning from ear to ear.  After saying that, though, I suddenly wondered if he was in fact the street rat I gauged him to be.

Dil's grin disappeared and his brow furrowed, "What kind of work?"  He asked cautiously.  Yes, he was in fact the street rat I gauged him to be.

I looked him up and down briefly, "You fought well a moment ago, and if this place is as dangerous as it made itself out to be in my first fifteen minutes of arrival, then I will be happy to have some help on my search."  I blinked, "I will give you half of what Aribeth gives me when I – we – find a creature."

Dil didn't look too sure, "How much do you – we – get for each creature?"  He asked curiously, searching my gaze for deception.

I shrugged.  I could only assume that Aribeth was going to pay me for recovering the creatures; she had not mentioned a price or anything when I had spoken to her earlier that day.  I wasn't doing this for charity, and I was quite positive that Aribeth knew that.  But did my new 'associate' have to know all that?  Of course not.

"I was not given a specific amount, though you'll note that Aribeth has the city coffers under her hand."  I replied, "And we've got _her under __ours, considering the current situation."  I grinned._

Dil seemed to think about it; he examined me and ran his fingers through his hair, then looked over his shoulder, "I'll agree to that if you agree to help me do some…eh…pest control."  He said finally, facing me and cocking his head to the side.  

"You want me to help you kill someone?  Or someone_s?"  I asked, arching my eyebrows, "Well you see the problem with that is that I am on a tight schedule..."  I frowned and trailed off when Dil laughed._

"Ha ha!  But you see, me dear Malkat, that is inconsequential,"  He cried triumphantly, coming closer to me, "as your purpose intercedes with my own!"  He winked at me, "You scratch my back, I scratch yours.  What say you, hmm?"" His wide gray eyes twinkled with sudden excitement.  Oh yes…this one was _definitely a street rat._

I nodded once, "Very well."  I agreed and Dil threw his fist in the air with a shout, "But how can I be assured that you won't run off on me when my end of the bargain is complete -- assuming my end will be the first to be completed?"  I searched out his gaze and held it firmly.

Offering me no security at all, Dil shrugged, "I've got nothing else to do."  He answered simply.

"Charming."  I grumbled.  Dil grinned.  This was going to be a cautious alliance.  

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes wearily, "Alright, time for you to start spilling your guts.  What do you know about the Waterdhavians?"  I asked.

Dil looked around pointedly, "Maybe we should get _away from all the dead guys, yes?"  He suggested; he tipped his head in the direction of the road, "Let's walk and talk."._

I followed him out onto the streets and found myself unable to stop looking around for more ambush-ready mobs.  Beside me, Dil was doing much the same.

"I know where one of your creatures is."  The rogue began, peeking over at me to see my reaction then quickly going back to looking around paranoidly, "A man named Vengaul has it."  He chuckled, "Well, part of it at least."  He corrected.

My mood dipped a notch right then, "_Part of it?"  I echoed flatly._

Dil nodded, "Yeah.  See, there's an Auction tonight – which is what I thought you were here for – and the showstopper is supposed to be a cure for the plague."  He frowned, "Everyone is going insane at the news, which has been circulating since the beginning of the week."  He looked down at me, "Now I happen to know that this cure garbage is a complete sham."

I cackled, "No, really?"  I droned sarcastically.

Dil scowled, "It's a bad time for you to be mocking me, you know."  He retorted and I glared back at him, "Anyway…"  He sighed irritably, "So what's really happening is that Vengual is trying to attract the attention of Lord Nasher."  He grinned, "What you should know is the Vengual is a very talented man who likes to make a show.  He wants Nasher to come to him and ask for the 'cure' – at which point he'd tell him that he doesn't have one but that he _does have a __part of the cure, so to speak."_

I shrugged, "That sounds like fun,"  I offered, then looked over at Dil with a deep scowl, "considering the fact that the entire city is waiting for a cure and this Vengual guy is playing games!"

Dil laughed and shook his head, "You can't expect men like Vengual to give up their practice just because times are rough!"  He argued merrily, "Nasher would get his cure sooner or later, Malkat.  This is just some added spice."  He smiled.

I raised an eyebrow at him and turned to look out at the street ahead.  Personally, being Nasher, I would have eviscerated Vengual for being an ass.  

"So what _part of the cure does Vengual have in his possession?"  I asked._

Dil held up three fingers, "He has three feathers from a cockatrice."  He said proudly, "And they are one of the reagents that Aribeth needs for her precious cure."

I snickered, "Where's the rest of the bird?"  I asked with difficulty, imaging a myriad of violent and undeniably hilarious ends for the fabled creature.

Dil's grin was ear to ear, "Oh it's quite dead.  Vengual had the thing killed and prepared by the chef at the local tavern.  It was an expensive meal."  He shook his head, "Vengual really didn't want Nasher to somehow get his hands on it without playing the game."  He seemed to be reminiscing and this sparked my interest.

"You are Vengual's friend?"  I asked curiously, looking over at him, "Or perhaps a very knowledgeable enemy?". 

Dil's eyes widened, "Quite far from an enemy, my dear!"  He exclaimed and grinned, "I'm one of his men, and damn proud of it, too!  He's really inspiring for those of us who are new to the game."  His smile vanished and he looked around again, "Gods know he has enough enemies as it is right now.  Some of his own men – the tasteless, senseless bastards – are unhappy with his appetite for showmanship and have turned against him."

I frowned, "Maybe they're pissed off at him for playing games when their lives – including _his – are in danger.  The plague isn't a joke."  I offered._

Dil snorted derisively, "Maybe.  But most likely not.  Some guys just can't appreciate Vengual's style; they can't see the beauty of the game if it isn't backed up by coin in the end."  He laid a hand on his sword and looked over at me, "Vengual mostly prefers to catch the fish and let it go.  Those against him don't see it that way."

I nodded; there was authentic sincerity in his eyes and it surprised me, "So the men who attacked us…I assume they are dissidents?"  I wondered aloud.

Dil nodded, his brow furrowing, "Yeah, that's right.  They rally under Callik.  Callik's men – 'the Bloodsailors' he calls them – are out to find and depose Vengual."  He explained, "And here's the kicker: Vengual's gone missing just recently, right before the auction!  The Gods know he wouldn't miss his own show, so my guess is that if we find Callik, we find Vengual..."  He smirked at me, "…and you get your bird feathers before Nasher does."

I began to see where this was going, "It's Callik you want to kill, isn't it, Dil?"  I asked, looking up at the rogue.

He smirked and nodded, "Clever girl."  He cooed and turned a mischievous look down at me, "Ready to play?"  He asked, using a rather frightening voice that he hadn't used yet in my presence.

Impressed and intrigued, I grinned, "Oh yes."        


	5. Chapter 4

The music I heard upon entering the district came from the local tavern.  The building itself was a dinosaur, its roof shingles overtaken by moss and rot, the heavily-vandalized door nearly falling off its hinges.  Bright light shone through the grimy windows, allowing sight to the assortment of patrons inside.  For all the death on the streets, there was sure a good load of liveliness inside.

I stood to the side, watching idly as my new partner negotiated with the doorkeeper through a viewing slit in the door.  Apparently, special coins were needed to gain entrance to the tavern – namely because of the auction that would go on inside that night and the desire of the general populace to exploit the ill fate of the masses – and Dil had, apparently, gotten robbed on the way there.  

"Dammit, Thurin!"  The half-elf cried, slapping the door, "It's _me, Dil!  Don't give me this bullshit…"  He frowned into the viewing slit, "I paid you earlier today!".  This had gone on for approximately fifteen minutes, and Dil's voice was only getting scratchier and scratchier._

The owner of the bright blue eyes on the other side of the door shook his head, "Nay, lad.  Ye should know best of all that my job ain't te grant folks favors."  He apologized in a rough accent.

Dil's eyes grew wide and he almost threw himself at the door, "What?!"  He cried, both hands spread on the door now, "You _owe me favors, Thurin!"  He snapped, incredulous, "Surely your present employer hasn't rid you of the memory of Sandy, has he?  Do you remember Sandy?"  There was a pause on the other end and Dil eagerly dove for the attack, "Of __course you do.  My mother almost __killed me for that!"  He pointed an accusatory finger, "I took the fall for you, little man.  My mother was disappointed in me…__real disappointed.  And the girls never forgave me!"  He smacked the door again, "I __still can't so much as __sit beside __any of them without getting smacked or snubbed or insulted or drenched with alcoholic beverages!  And all that for __you, my friend."  He narrowed his eyes and his voice dropped to a hiss, "So you owe me __big, jackass, and I'm calling in the favor __right __now."  _

The man behind the door looked over in my direction and I waved.  He returned his attention to Dil and blinked, "I'm still gonna have to ask ye fer five co—"  He started, then was violently cut off as Dil pounded on the door one final time.

"_Thurin!"  The rogue screamed, the door rattling ominously under his fist.  _

"Fine!"  The guard roared at long last, adding a few choice expletives and unpleasantness in Dil's name.  The door swung open so fast that I feared it would be flung right off.  

Dil turned to me then and motioned to the door, "After you."  He said pleasantly and offered a tight smile.  

I held a chuckle and we entered the tavern.  Despite it being mid-morning, the place was just teeming with people.  The auction had obviously attracted much attention, and it seemed that everyone wanted to get a good seat (figuratively speaking) in time for the evening show.  Ale foamed in most goblets – even those of the visibly sick.  The tavern was accepting anyone and everyone, with the proper pass coins or undue favors that is, and that included those stricken with disease.

As the door snapped shut at our heels, Dil turned a wicked glare upon the doorman – a burly dwarf standing on a chair by the door.  The dwarf, Thurin, grumbled something under his breath and waved him off irritably.  

As Dil stood still and looked around, I frowned at the people who passed by us, "There are diseased people here, you know."  I said, "Aren't you afraid of catching their sickness?"  I looked up at the half-elf but he was concentrated on his search for something or some_one and hadn't heard me.  It came to my mind then that none of the healthy-looking people in the tavern seemed distressed by the presence of the sick among them.  Perhaps tragedy brought them together in hopes of finding some relief?  Or maybe they all figured that the 'cure' that Dil's leader Vengual would bring to them would cure them all one way or the other.  _

I was pulled from my reverie when there came a sudden motion at my side.  Dil had found whatever it was he was looking for and had bolted through the crowd after it.  I followed, and we came to a halt at the back of the room, where a tall, bearded man stood in a doorway.

Dil raised his hand and grinned, "Mutanim, my boy!"  He cried good-naturedly and the tall man came forth to greet him, grasping his arm in one hand and patting it roughly with the other.  I watched curiously, feeling terribly useless and invisible, wondering just how many people Dil knew.   

"Nothing yet 'bout Vengual, Dil."  Mutanim said at once, shaking his shaggy head, "The boys 'er still out lookin' and there's nothing else I can do, really…"  He trailed off and looked over at me, noticing me for the first time, "Oh hey lookit this!"  He cooed, looking me up and down; he smirked and reached out to touch my face, "Another gift from the lady Ophala she is, eh?"

Dil's hand shot out like lightning and slapped Mutanim's fingers away, "Ah ah ah!  Not so fast, my friend!"  He exclaimed and winked at the other man, "This one's not mum's."  The two seemed to exchange some sort of inside joke and chuckled.

Mutanim drew back slightly and inclined his head to me, "My mistake.  Dreadfully sorry, Miss…"  He paused expectantly.

"Malkat."  I offered and looked over at Dil suspiciously.  Was he trafficking women?  Dil grinned from ear to ear.  Probably.  Mental note:  find out later.

Forgetting me altogether, Mutanim sighed heavily and returned his attention to Dil, "I'd throw everybody out, but it'd be a sin to waste a cash grab like this, y'know?"  He appealed to Dil, holding out his hands; when Dil nodded his understanding, he shrugged, "And besides…maybe this is jus' part of the show.  You know how Vengual is an' all…"

Dil frowned at that, "No…this isn't any show, I assure you."  He pressed concernedly, "Have you seen any of Callik's men around here today?"  He looked around, craning his head to scrutinize the many foreign faces.  

Mutanim looked stoic, "Couple.  Hard to tell who's who nowadays, mind."  He furrowed his brow in thought for a moment, then lashed out and playfully hit Dil on the arm, "Hey, know what?!  Saw one o' your guys this mornin'; came to me an' asked to take the Challenge!"  He laughed, "Can you believe it?  At a time like this the damn kids're still lookin' for something t'do!"

Somewhat dejected, I piped up, "Challenge?"  I asked curiously.  Mutanim looked at me like I had just sprouted a third eye.

"You mean to tell me you haven't heard of my Challenge?"  The tall man almost barked at me, "Where you from?  Th'Underdark?  The bleedin' ruins of Myth Drannor?!"

I stared at him dully, "Apparently both."  I droned.

With a grunt, Mutanim ignored the sarcasm, "Well whatever.  Anyhow,"  He thumbed over his shoulder, where past the doorway behind him was a short staircase leading to a heavy oak door, "My Challenge was th'most popular damn thing before the plague usurped my fame.  I got surprises back there that'd stump the cleverest o' halflings!  Worked hard on that place, I did."  He nodded to himself, "Ain't no poor bastard ever get out of there alive so far!"  He grinned and drew himself up proudly.

I cackled despite myself, "So you have a dragon in there or what?"  I asked.  Where there's someone offering stupidity, there's always someone right close by who's willing to buy it.

Mutanim waved his hands, "No no…I'm not that lucky a man, lass."  He smirked, "But tell ya what, there's a pretty penny in it fer the man who bests the chaos I got set up back there."  

I raised an eyebrow, "How much exactly?"  I inquired.  Was I considering taking the Challenge?  No.  I was only probing for future entertainment.

"Well so far it's up to two thousand five-hundred."  Mutanim answered with a measure of reserved awe; he grinned when my eyebrows shot up, "Nice, eh?  Specially in times like these, too."  He seemed to get an idea and thrust his chin out at Dil, "How come you ain't never tried yer hand at it, man?"  He asked the half-elf, who'd been quiet and contemplative since I had asked about the Challenge.

Dil blinked and raised his eyebrows at his friend, "What?  Me?  Oh…"  He shook his head and made a face, "I'm no fool, Mutanim."  He said and glared, then, "So anyway…are you sure the boys've looked everywhere?  Vengual didn't just disappear, you know."  He urged, bringing the conversation back to its original path.

Mutanim shrugged helplessly, "Hey…I said they looked everywhere and that they're still lookin'.  There's only s'much we can do.  My guys're dyin' out there, too."  He replied, his tone dropping from pleasant to almost hopeless.

Dil rubbed his eyes and took a breath, "I know, I know…I'm sorry and all, but that's war."  He frowned up at Mutanim, "I was attacked just a moment ago, too.  Right near the gates."  He motioned loosely over to me, "Malkat helped me.  Look, I know Callik's up to something and I'm sick of standing around like a blasted peon waiting for a miracle."

Mutanim looked deeply disturbed, "Dil, come on, man!"  He pleaded, grasping the man's arm and squeezing it as if to ground him, "What're ye gonna do?  Seriously!  We can't _find Vengual.  I say he'll turn up when he chooses to and give us all a good scare."  He shook his head, "Goin' out like a mad harpy isn't going to help matters any; ye can't do more in a couple hours than what twenty other guys have been doing since this morning."  _

Dil pulled his gaze from Mutanim's pleading one and looked over at me, though his eyes were focused and unseeing, "How many Bloodsailors did you say you saw here since this morning, Mutanim?"  He asked the other man without looking at him.  I looked from Dil to Mutanim and back again.

"What…I'd say…"  The shaggy-bearded man thought for a moment, "…three or four, tops.  Stalked in here and stuck out like sore thumbs, what with their red getup an' all."  He shook his head, "Then there was your guy…Vengual's men still wear red too, some o' them…guess they didn't have a change of clean clothes or whatnot when Callik took the reins…"  He frowned and trailed off.

I looked over at Dil and examined his attire.  He wore no red.  I caught his gaze, "Hey…where's your red gear?"  I asked rudely.

Dil's expression remained thoughtful, "I had _this."  He pointed to his dark, roan-red hair, "And in case you weren't listening, Mutanim just said that only Callik's men wear red now."  His eyes flicked to the side for a moment and I followed his gaze.  He was looking at the oak door behind Mutanim.  _

I looked at Mutanim, who was now also looking at the very same door.  Both men had gone strangely quiet…then they looked at each other and Mutanim's face became a mask of disbelief.

"Holy shit…"  The tall man breathed, "…Talos' crotch!"  He cried and hurried over to the door; he fumbled around for something in his trouser pocket, "You don't think Callik's got him—"  He stopped in mid-sentence and produced a small rusted key.  I began to understand.

Dil ran his hand through his hair and tapped his foot on the ground as Mutanim fiddled with lock on the door, "If Vengual's been smuggled right under your nose…"  He started and hurried over to the door as soon as Mutanim had unlocked it.

"Callik's a clever fellow if he managed to—"  I started but Dil whipped around to look at me, furious.

"Callik is _nothing."  He snapped, then motioned for me to follow him through the door ahead, "Now let's go.  I don't have all day."  With that, he disappeared into the darkness beyond._

I looked at Mutanim, who stood by the door, and found myself speechless.  I made my way down the small staircase and up to the dark doorway.  Before I stepped through, however, I peered over at Mutanim and raised an eyebrow, "Do I get the two thousand five hundred gold if I come out of here alive?"  I asked mockingly.

Mutanim grinned, "Maybe."    


	6. Chapter 5

"So let me get this straight."  I mused as the door snapped shut at my back; I headed for Dil, who stood impatiently in the narrow hallway before me, his sword already drawn, "Who's Mutanim?"  I asked pointedly.  It was cold and dank, and aside from the muffled reveling of the tavern-goers upstairs, I could hear all sorts of other little noises…unpleasant ones.  There were live things here, and lots of them at that.  Dil and I stood in a long corridor, the inside wall lined with chambers doors; on both ends some hundred-odd feet off, the corridor turned off.  

Dil sighed and looked down the corridor distractedly, "He owns the tavern.  He's a friend of Vengual's and was supposed to be hosting the auction tonight."  He answered, "But that's not gonna happen if we don't find Vengual."  He added and started off.

"Dil!"  I barked and lunged for him as soon as he moved.  I had questions, dammit.

Dil whirled on me and scowled, "What?!"  He snapped, "We don't have time for chit chat, Malkat!"

I narrowed my eyes and held his arm, "If Callik has Vengual down here somewhere and is really the bastard you make him out to be, then there's a good chance your captain is already dead."  I scolded and released him when he roughly pulled his arm away, "Now take a breath and answer my questions, lest you want me to do something _to you that will make things easier for me."  I furrowed my brow._

Dil raised an eyebrow, "You're threatening me?"  He asked; the question was more of a comment.  He took a step closer to me and held my gaze firmly, his gray eyes rhadamanthine now, "Look…I don't know where your loyalties – if any – stand, but I know where _mine do."  He warned, "Pardon me for being unbearable right now but understand that a lot of good people have died over this mess and I don't care to see it drag on for any longer.  I owe it to my crew, to Vengual, and to NeverWinter to rid us all of the likes of Callik."  He drew back sharply, "Now if you want to cooperate, fine.  If not, I'll not waste your time any further."_

There was a moment of silence where I just stared at him, open-mouthed.  Oh my God…I just wanted him to answer my questions!  Perhaps I could have been nicer about it, but…he was so strung-up!  I examined him a moment, searching his eyes for some of the answers I craved.  Such a sense of loyalty and duty…how odd for a street rat like him.  Was Vengual really such an inspiration?  I suddenly wondered what would happen if we found the rogue captain dead…

Dil broke the silence, "I'll answer all your questions later,"  He pleaded, the edge gone from his voice, "I assure you."  He nodded encouragingly to me.  

I nodded back to him and waved us on, "Fine."  I mumbled and we strode off down the lengthy corridor, our boots crunching on the gritty stone floor.  When we walked by the first chamber door along the wall, there came a chittering sound from inside; it seemed we had disturbed something.  I frowned, "What's this Challenge anyway?"  I asked, unable to stop myself from asking more questions, "What's in here and how does it work, do you know?"  I continued moving, so as to keep my companion from hyperventilating at the momentarily slowed pace.

To my relief, Dil didn't freak out at me, "Well, Mutanim once showed me some old floor plans and explained to me that the tavern here was actually a warehouse as well as something of a docking bay."  He motioned to the area we were currently in, "When Mutanim bought the place, he remodeled the top floor—" He paused and smirked, "—okay, so he added a couple chairs and tables –"  He corrected himself, "and the bottom floor here he pretty much left as is.  This floor's basically just a huge corridor that goes around the room, with storage compartments in the middle."  He shrugged, "He used to rent the storage compartments, but after being robbed a couple dozen times and suffering a slew of various infestations, he decided to turn the place into _this – his 'Challenge'.  Don't ask me what he's got in here, because I don't know…and nor do I care."_

We came to the end of the hallway and turned right; the corridor looked exactly like the one we had just walked.  I blinked and fumbled through my robes for Aribeth's coin, suddenly curious to see whether any of the other summoned folk had had any luck finding the Waterdhavians, "So how does the Challenge work?  Do you just come in here and open up all the doors and kill everything that moves?"  I asked, finding the smooth copper coin and holding it up to examine it.  All four engraved creatures remained.  I put the coin away again and looked over at Dil.

"I guess."  The half-elf replied, stoic, "Mutanim says that there are four crystal items scattered amongst the storage compartments.  If some guy finds them all and brings them back to Mutanim, that guy gets the money and Mutanim rethinks his Challenge."  He laughed and grinned over at me, "I'm ready to bet my life that those crystal things don't even exist.  Mutanim loves his gold, you see."

I chuckled and shook my head, "Nice man, him."  I commented dryly and Dil elbowed me.

"Hey!"  He snapped, "He's a _very nice man.  And don't you forget it, woman."  He winked at me and immediately picked up again before I could complain, "__But…we're not here for that."  He piped brightly.  Confusing.  That's what Dil was.  Confusing._

I felt lost again, "If we're not here to whip open all these doors and ask the things inside if they've seen Vengual or Callik today, then what, pray tell, are we here for?"  I asked idly.

Dil chuckled, "Oh, we'll probably end up 'whipping doors open', as you so glibly put it, but what we're looking for is an entrance that'll lead us one level down from this one."  He looked at me, the sparkle of adventure returning to his eye, "Remember how I said that this place was once a docking bay as well as a warehouse?  Well, Mutanim had also informed me that below this floor there was a small canal that connected with the city sewers before emptying out into the sea.  He said he sealed off the entrance to the underground so that people attempting to master his Challenge wouldn't stumble across it by mistake and wander into the sewers." 

"So you think Callik's gone into the sewers."  I stated bluntly, sounding unimpressed despite the fact that I was only minorly displeased yet intrigued.  I had a brief mental image of us trudging around for hours in the sewers and emerging at last, soaked and reeking of excrement, right back at the district gates.  Oh _man would the nutcase by the fire __ever take off then…_

Dil nodded gingerly, eyes wide, "Well…yes."  He peeped and shrugged, "We've looked everywhere above ground and neither Vengual nor Callik have been found.  I say we take a peek below and see what we can find."  

"Brilliant!"  I acknowledged him approvingly, "Now have you any idea where the entrance to the sewers is?"  I looked over at Dil and stopped walking as he did the same.   He flushed and rubbed the back of his neck before peering at me apprehensively.

"No."  The rogue replied, avoiding my eyes, "That's the catch."  Silence fell.

My shoulders slumped, "Damn."  I drawled.  A few feet away from us, behind the nearest chamber door on the wall, something chittered angrily.

* * *

After circulating quickly around the perimeter of the room, we ended up with a total count of 16 doors – four on each wall of the loosely-rectangular room.  The doors presented various effects when walked-by or banged-on; a few doors greeted the intrusion with the high-pitched chittering, others made no sound at all, one offered a sloshy-wet sound and responded to a hit on the door with a hit of its own, and others still gave an anonymous groan.  It felt to me like a large game of cruel jack-in-the-box.

We finally decided to start with one of the quiet doors – the ones that didn't register our presence with audible displeasure.  

"Can't you cast something that'll let you see through the door or something or the sort?"  Dil asked me uncomfortably as we stood before the door in question; he looked over at me, "You're a mage, yes?"  He pressed.

I nodded quickly and pulled my crossbow off my back, "Yes, but I can't do anything like that, Dil."  I said with a small smile and started fumbling about for some magic bolts, "I'm specialized in necromancy...all of that divination nonsense is out of my reach.  My apologies."

Dil shot me a dull look, "Well it's not nonsense _now, is it?"  He shot back._

I scowled at him and strung up a cold bolt, "Should we just kill each other _now or wait a bit longer?"  I asked seriously, "Because I'm getting restless."_

Dil made a rude gesture, "Let's wait a bit.  You might have your life to throw away but I'm worth something."  He smiled wickedly and raised his sword, "Now let's get back to business."  He turned back to the door and grasped the handle.  I positioned my weapon.  Dil pushed open the door with a hiss and a click.  

There was nothing inside the storage room.  Well…nothing _alive, rather.  Along both sides of the room were stacked a bunch of old crates and barrels, and at the back was a rusted chest; in the very center of the room lay the body of a man in soft leather armor.  _

"What the hell happened?"  I asked, my voice sounding like thunder in the thick silence.  I lowered my weapon.

Dil turned to face me and grinned, "Probably a trap, I guess."  He shrugged and moved back out into the hallway, "Mutanim's fond of them.  Thinks they make him look clever."  He chuckled.  He started off back down the hall, towards the other quiet door we had found.

I followed after him, "Doesn't Mutanim come down here and clean up the corpses?"  I asked, wondering how long the Challenge had been going on and just how much of a biohazard the place could have become in that time.

"Ask him next time you see him."  Dil called back.   

I cackled, "That's a gamble."

The next quiet door was on the next wall.  We approached it much like the last and tentatively took a look inside.  There were no dead bodies in this one, for one thing; the floor was covered with a matrix of pressure plates and in the far wall was an alcove in which sat a small bag.  The alcove was protected by a shimmering barrier of energy that bathed the room in a metallic blue glow.  Curious at the game, I stared at it for a moment.  

Dil immediately left the doorway and headed back down the corridor, "No entrance there."  He called back to me when I didn't follow him.

I have to admit that I had the biggest urge to just skip ino the room and try the game.  It looked like fun, after all, and I figured that the object was to enter a kind of code-pattern by pressing on certain plates that would ultimately dispel the barrier protecting the alcove at the back.  Useless to me at the moment, yes…but _fun._

"Hey!"  Dil shouted irritably from the end of the hallway, "Let's _go!"  He motioned for me to follow him and I regretfully sighed and left the puzzle-room behind._

When I caught up to him, Dil shook his head at me.  I frowned, "Shut up."  I grumbled as we came to a halt before our next mystery door of choice.  I remembered this one!  It was the one that had something inside that made a squishy sound when we disturbed it…and pounded on the door when we did.

We took our usual positions and Dil pulled open the door.  

Right in front of us was a man suspended in mid air; his eyes were open, but he wasn't moving.  His sword hung about as well, a few inches from his outstretched hand.  I tried to look past the man and found my vision heavily blurred.  Then the familiar intestinal gurgling noise sounded and the air around the suspended man appeared to ripple like water.  The air – which obviously wasn't air at all, as I quickly realized – undulated out towards Dil and the rogue slammed the door shut and whirled to face me.

"I never thought I'd ever see one of those."  Dil declared, his eyes wide; he looked genuinely amazed.  Behind him, the door rattled under the impact of a push from the creature inside.

It took a moment for me to register what I'd just seen, but I was eventually able to identify the _thing I'd just seen through the door.  It was a gelatinous cube.  A great big organism, much like a type of fungus, that fed on carrion and whatever else it could trap, digesting the lot with its exceptional bodily acids.  The cubes could get big…very big; like their name suggests, they fitted themselves to a certain space or room and expanded accordingly.  _

I grinned and let out a laugh, "That has _got to be the funniest thing I've ever seen!"  I cried despite myself and Dil's incredulous expression.  I laughed again, imagining the man in the cube running right smack into the jelly and getting stuck there.  It was funny...admit it._

Dil frowned, "Well…you're killing it.  I am _not losing any of my gear to that thing."  He grumbled and rested his hand on the door handle._

I couldn't stop grinning, "Sure.  But you didn't see _through the cube by any chance, did you?"  I asked, mentally going through my memorized spells to see which had the best chance of downing the queer jelly creature._

"No."  Dil snapped, grimacing, "I was kinda busy looking at the dead guy, actually."  He shook his head and tightened his grip on the door handle, "Ready?  I don't feel like being digested today, so make this quick."  He urged.

I ignored the pseudo-command and raised my hands, "Ready.  Open the door when I reach the climax of my incantation."  I ordered and resisted the urge to giggle.  I couldn't stop thinking of stupid cube-jokes.

Dil had the look of a man silently praying for a miracle, "How will I know?"  He asked.

I shrugged, "You'll know."  Was all I replied before closing my eyes and launching into an incantation.  It was a long one, too – one of my favorites.  The Horrid Wilting spell would be especially effective, sapping all moisture from a chosen target in an instant.  The cube – that terribly comical, gelatinous blob-of-an-oddity – would promptly die under its effect, I was sure of it.

When my voice rose, Dil tore open the door and dashed off to the side like the nutcase by the district gates.  Good thing I didn't see it, because my spell would have been lost to hysterical sobs of laughter.  I opened my eyes as I executed the final semantics; the cube's viscous surface undulated towards me, arcing out through the door as soon as it opened, then it rapidly pulled back.  I watched as the unseen force of my spell gathered the cube into the center of the room and pulled it upwards and inwards, like a great invisible hand squeezing its girth.  The cube speedily shrunk then, air bubbles within it popping like boiling toffee; the corpse of the man within shriveled along with the creature.  Within seconds, the cube was no more.  The grisly husk of the corpse, along with the other assorted weaponry and trinkets once trapped within the ambulant stomach, dropped to the ground.

"So it's dead now?"  Dil asked from the side, making his way back to the door.

I examined my work merrily and looked around the empty room, "Yes.  And there's unfortunately no entrance in this room either."  I replied.  Dil appeared beside me and slipped into the room on cat-feet.  He made his way over to the remains of the dead man and poked around until he found a few coins to content himself with.  That done, he walked back to me with a smile.

"I like gold."  He cooed calmly and winked, "Don't you?"  He disappeared back into the corridor.

I rolled my eyes and followed him out.     


	7. Chapter 6

Ignoring the doors behind which we could hear things groaning, we decided to try our hand at the chittering doors instead.  Understandably, they contained spiders – big ones, with legs the length of my entire body.  There were five chittering doors, and we had successfully investigated three of them; two had webbing so thick over the walls and assorted crates scattered on the floor that we had no choice but to go in and look around for telltale grates or trapdoors, and the other door we had promptly opened and closed for the single reason that there was nothing other than a pair of spiders in the room and clearly nothing else of interest.  

"Do you really think the guy Mutanim let into the Challenge this morning was one of Callik's men?"  I asked as Dil slapped his hand on the door before us in a vain attempt to excite the spiders inside so that we could get a relative head count.

"I don't know, but I'd rather not take any chances."  The half-elf replied, frowning at the heavy door and critically listening to the chittering on the other side, "We haven't come across the guy yet, so that could give you an indication."  He added.

I nodded and was about to ask how he knew that the guy hadn't been one of the dead men we had already found, but then I remembered what had sparked this entire escapade: the guy Mutanim let in had been wearing red, the token color of Callik's men and the ex-uniform of Vengual's.  You'd think they'd all agree to wear black…red is so flashy for a group of thieves…

"Okay, there's only one spider in here."  Dil declared, unsheathing his sword and turning to look at me.  He raised an eyebrow and I chuckled, "What?"  He snapped.

I cleared my throat, "So how are you aiding the welfare of NeverWinter, Malkat?"  I joked in my best Aribeth voice, "Oh…killing spiders in a tavern basement.  You?"  I replied as myself and chuckled again.

Dil tried to keep a straight face then broke down and smiled, "It's best not to think about it."  He chuckled in dismissal.  He turned back to the door and tugged on the handle.  I raised my crossbow to shoulder-level and waited.

The door creaked open to reveal another heavily-webbed room that smelt of must.  The light from the torches in the corridor shone into the room and offered a peculiar sight:  as Dil had aptly estimated, there was indeed only one _moving spider inside, but all over the floor lay the motionless forms of other spiders of assorted size.  They didn't __look to have been harmed…they were just sitting there like ornaments on the walls, over old crates, scattered over the floor.  _

Dil dashed into the room and I fired; the bolt buried itself in the large, grayish spider's leg – which was as thick as my arm –  and it shrieked as a small nova of ice formed around the circumference of the embedded missile.  I looked around suspiciously, positive that the other quiet spiders would spring to life suddenly.  But they didn't.  Good…we'd worry about them later.

Dil weaved over and around the crates on the ground like a gazelle, veering unerringly for the angry spider.  The creature hissed at the sight and reared-back, kicking wildly with its free legs in hopes of warding off its attacker.  It was at this point that Dil appeared to hesitate, his back turned to me, before bending to one side and flinging his free arm thrice.  It took me a moment to notice the hilts of three throwing knives, the light finally reflecting off of their polished surfaces, buried within the spider's abdomen.  Dil had knives?  Where?  

The spider shrieked again and fell onto its back.  Dil disappeared from my sight behind some crates as he followed the arachnid to the ground.  I saw a blade flash in the blink of an eye and then the half-elf reappeared, brushing himself off.

"Where'd the knives come from?"  I called out to him, my eyes still scanning the motionless spiders that continued to stand in silent vigil.  They were seriously creeping me out.  What was the matter with them?  Were they real?

Dil's eyes widened and he ducked back out of sight.  He popped back up again a moment later and sheathed his sword, "None of your business."  He replied pertly.  As he stepped over the dead spider and carefully made his way back to the door, he stopped behind a pile of dinner plate-size spider-sprinkled crates, "Come here."  He called to me, once again hidden from view.

I re-strapped my crossbow, "Oooh, oh…yes, master."  I replied cynically and picked my way over to the stack of crates a few feet away.  

When I reached Dil, he was crouched down in front of a weathered-looking trap door which he had pulled open to reveal a narrow steel ladder below, "No more spider killing for us!  Look what I found!"  He gasped triumphantly.

I crouched down opposite him, frowning at an inanimate spider the size of my fist clinging to the crate near my face, and peered down into the trap door.  It smelt like rot and old water – which backed the theory that this was the elusive entrance to the sewers that we had been searching for.  I turned a fake smile up at Dil and motioned to the ladder below, "After you."  I beckoned.

 The smell was worse at the bottom of the ladder.  We cautiously set foot on ground that was wet with sewage water, the thin brownish film like saliva in texture.  Before us sprawled a large area with a low, vaulted ceiling; a long trench in the middle of the floor guided rancid sewage water into a half-dozen pools that were interconnected by small stone bridges.   Crossing the bridges and weaving one's way over the central trench was the only way to reach the back of the room, where the trench gave way to the regular sewer construct – a murky green canal leading further off into the underground.

As I stepped down from the ladder, Dil squeezed my arm.  I looked over at him and he raised a finger to his lips, his eyes wide.  I looked around the room and saw what had alerted him: at the other end of the room, three men mulled about, idly conversing.  They wore red.  

Unfortunately, there was nowhere for Dil and I to hide, and the men took no time in noticing their two new guests.

One of the men cried out and pointed, alerting the two others, before dashing towards the first bridge in the maze that would lead him to our position.  The two other men promptly began shooting arrows.

"Follow me!"  Dil cried and tore off to one side, he too making his way over to the nearest bridge.

An arrow zipped by my face and I hurried after him, my eyes on the ground at my feet; the floor was wet, and I was not the most sure-footed thing on earth.  We darted straight for the oncoming man-in-red, meeting him on a section of floor between bridges approximately half-way through the room.

Dil and the attacker dove for each other at once, the slender rapier kissing a wicked-edged scimitar, the ring loud in the hallow sewers.  Their footing occasionally slipped on the slick floor; what I assumed to be Callik's crony tried incessantly to get Dil to turn his back to the archers at the back of the room, but Dil knew his ruse and nimbly countered his efforts.

I quite literally hid behind the pair and launched a volley of magic missiles at one of the archers beyond.  The purplish darts of light arched around the engaged swordsmen and drew together again, each assaulting its target in rapid succession.  The archer staggered back a few steps and reeled from the blows.

Before me, the man in red cried out as Dil's fist connected with his nose, effectively breaking it with an audible crunch; Callik's henchman slipped with the impact and fell onto his backside.  The two men had gravitated their fight to the edge of the nearest sewage pool, and my companion had just managed to get himself out of the vulnerable position.  Dil eagerly scrambled away from the slick, precipitous edge and spun his sword before moving towards his downed opponent.

The archers in the back, encouraged by the clear shot at Dil and I that they now had, plucked their bows full-tilt.  I immediately began chanting the words to a chain lightning spell, trying my best not to be distracted by the plinking of arrows missing their target.  

Dil fell upon his opponent like a rabid dog, smashing the man back to the ground just as he attempted to haul himself to his feet.  Hands ever quick, the rogue pushed the other man's head back and neatly slit his throat.  

An arrow grazed my neck; it felt like the blade of a very fine knife.  I stopped chanting and grasped my neck, ducking down to one side, gawking.  My heart was beating at a mile an hour as my fingers scraped the torn flesh right beneath my jaw.  The cut was not a deep one, thankfully, but it burned like a son a bitch.  I looked up to see Dil cast a furtive glance in my direction before he took off running for the nearest bridge, heading in the direction of the archers at the back.  

As the half-elf ran, he diverted the attention of the offending archers and I took the opportunity to pull off a lengthier spell.  As I chanted I couldn't help but notice the warm wetness that slowly trickled down into the collar of my robes; the sting of my wound was almost acidic in its intensity.  Nevertheless, I managed to complete my incantation and I triumphantly extended a finger to point ominously at one of the archers in the distance.  I muttered a single word and the man in question dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Dil reached the other end of the room just as the remaining archer realized that he no longer had any arrows left.  The look on his face was priceless, I assure you, when Dil tore after him.  The man held up his bow in an attempt to deflect whatever attack Dil could muster, but the wooden shaft was quickly taken out of the equation after a swift, simple sword maneuver on Dil's part.  For the second time in only a few moments, the half-elf drove his fist into another man's face; he swept his foot out beneath him after the impact and the last archer crumbled to the ground.

From the center of the room, I watched curiously as Dil brought the tip of his sword down against his opponent's throat and rested a foot on the man's chest.  I weaved my way over to them.

"Callik is down here, yes?  Where is he?!"  Dil asked the prone man.  I stepped up behind him and peered down at the hostage.

The man at sword's point sneered, "What's this?"  He asked, eyeing both my companion and I.  

Dil's eyes hardened, "I asked you a question!"  He snapped, nicking the man's throat.

The archer swallowed, holding Dil's gaze challengingly, "What's it to you?"  He spat, spittle flying onto the blade inches from his face.

"You see,"  Dil almost purred, leaning forward so that his sword traced a thin red line across the other man's throat, "I _know you guys have Vengual stashed away down here and I don't happen to find that very amusing.  I am one of Vengual's lads.  The good guys."  He winked, though his voice remained chilling, "And we both know that the good guys always win, right?  So if I find Callik down here, I am going to eviscerate him."  He grinned, "And __you, my friend, are going to lead me to him."_

The man on the ground made a disgraceful sound, "You bargain with a man that has nothing to bargain with, jackass."  He snarled, "I'd rather die right now than help someone who's blind enough to support an old fool who's ego has eroded his judgment!"  He leaned his head back, fully exposing his throat in an invitation to death.

My eyes snapped over to Dil.  Oh my…_that comment wasn't going to go over well.  _

The rogue's eyes remained hard as stone as he stared down at his hostage; when he spoke, his voice was like ice, "We'll see who's blind."  He hissed and finished off the archer with a flick of his wrist.  He walked over to the edge of the room, where the trench ended and the real sewers began, and peered down.

I made a face, "I'm not swimming, Dil."  I voiced at length.

"There's a boat here, relax Kat."  The half-elf replied without turning; his voice had returned to normal.  He dropped down to one knee and started reaching for the side of the boat, which was quite hidden from my view.

I stepped over the dead archer and moved to join Dil.  Looking over the edge of the trench, I saw the boat in question; it was something of a rowboat, quite beat-up and with only one oar that was as long as a lance.  It was a small jump to the inside of the craft, and I briefly wondered how the men in red had managed to get out of the boat and onto floor-level.

"Are you alright?"  Dil asked, pulling me from my observations.  He pointed to my neck.

I nodded down at him and motioned to the boat, "Yes yes."  I urged, "Let's just get moving."  


	8. Chapter 7

"Just jump!"  Dil called up to me from the boat below.  He should never have said that.

It was a four foot drop to the boat – and the rancid canal – below, but it felt like a mile.  I hate water and I always have, so you can surely understand why jumping into a small and seemingly-unstable boat would fail to fill me with joy.  Dil stood in the center of the craft, off to one side, and held the single oar; he had made it look so easy, jumping and landing gracefully, lightly, like a cat.  It was probably his elven blood.  Bastard.  Nonetheless, at this point, I figured that I could probably make the jump and land it somewhat gracefully, despite the fact that there wasn't much room left for a landing and the boat was inching away from the side of the wall with every passing moment…

"Right…"  I grumbled and swallowed heavily, positioning myself for the inevitable jump.  The damn shack-of-a-boat was moving _away from me, dammit!  I peered down at the green-tinted sewage water below and wondered just how deep the canal was._

Dil frowned, "_Go!"  He cried impatiently._

I took a breath, closed my eyes and jumped.  My feet hit something hard and narrow and I heard Dil swear; I was rocked backwards at once and I opened my eyes as Dil lunged for me.  The sudden motion was too much for the already-tipped boat and I slipped and fell over backwards into the water, taking the small craft with me.  

It was as I scrambled underwater that I realized that I had jumped and landed on the edge of the boat.  Bravo, Malkat.  You are a champion.  There was an idle clap in my mind at this point.  Finally, I resurfaced and took a deep breath, which was a big mistake because my lungs were instantly filled with extremely vile air.  Right near me, Dil – who'd also been launched into the sewage water -- was busy turning the flipped boat right-side-up; the oar floated by me and I picked it up.

"Good job."  The half-elf bitterly growled at me and pulled himself up and into the boat.  Once aboard, he scowled as I handed him one end of the oar.

I ignored the comment and pulled myself to and onto the boat with Dil's help.  For a moment we just sat there, soaked and smelling of excrement and waste.  Being soaked has got to be the worst feeling ever.  I looked up from my lap and met Dil's gaze.

The rogue closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, "No, don't say anything.  I feel like killing you right now."  He said and pried the oar from my hands, "Let's just get moving."  He sighed and opened his eyes again, then slid the oar into the water.  There was a clunk sound and I assumed that the oar could reach all the way to the bottom of the canal – which probably explained why the oar was so long, and why there was only one and not two of them.  We could literally _drag ourselves through the sewers._

Quietly, we led the little boat deeper into the winding tunnels of the underground.  It was interesting to wonder what part of the city we were beneath and how it all connected, and besides…the boat ride was rather soothing, now that the fear of falling in had been brutally stricken from my mind.  The first stretch of canal was a long one, leading a few hundred feet before turning off into two other paths.

Dil was brooding.  The cut on my neck was burning worse now, thanks to my recent dip in the ever-so-cleanly water.  I pressed my hand over it and wished I had something clean to bandage it up with.

"If that gets infected, they'll have to amputate your head."  Dil commented, breaking the silence; he stared out in the direction of the upcoming break in the canal, "What a shame."  He smirked.

I dropped my hand into my lap and stared dully at him, "Are you done?"  I drawled.  This guy reminds me of Desther…ouch.

Dil didn't budge, "Just lowering your self-esteem."  He replied curtly.

I made an indelicate sound, "Thanks for kicking me when I'm down, Dil.  Always appreciated."  I quipped and looked in the direction he was facing.  We were coming up to the break now, and the canal split into two directions: left and right.

Dil pulled the boat to a stop, "Your welcome, Kat."  He replied, his eyes searching.  He looked to the right and went still.

"I'll—"  I started to retort but Dil motioned for me to be quiet, his back turned to me.  I leaned to the side to look past him and searched the right-side of the turnoff as he did.  There were voices in the distance; I couldn't hear what was being said, nor could I figure out how many voices I was hearing.  But I _did hear voices._

Dil turned to face me; he was smiling grimly, "Callik is here."  He declared and started to push the boat in the direction he'd been staring in.  

I raised an eyebrow at the man's back.  He heard Callik?  Or was his mind playing tricks on him?  Never mind…it was probably the elven blood again.  Maybe I had sewage water in my ears and wasn't hearing right…not that I could recognize Callik if I heard him, mind.  I found myself staring at the little points of Dil's ears, poking out from under his drenched hair.  Just how much could he hear?  Freak.

We crept along the canal, listening to the voices that guided us to our destination.  This stretch was much shorter than the last, and at the end of it was a dead end.  However, upon closer inspection, one could see a break in the wall on the right side – right near the end of the stretch.

As we neared that very break, I took out my crossbow and loaded a couple darts; I was ready to bet my life that the second we'd pull into view, a half-dozen of Callik's men would rush out at us…or better yet, shoot arrows at us.  We were quite quiet as Dil pulled the boat up alongside the right wall, so as to keep some kind of cover.  

We stopped about ten feet from the break and listened.  Curiously, the voices we could now clearly hear came not from right near us, but from further on.  There were many voices – all male – but only one was heard more often.  I easily made out five separate voices during the short time I listened closely.  There was an argument going on.

Dil looked over his shoulder at me and grinned, then motioned for us to disembark and get back onto ground level through the break in the wall.  We moved the boat as close as we could, and thankfully the ground level was not as far from the water level as it had been in the last room, thus making it fairly easy for us to just climb up.

The break in the wall was about three feet wide; right beyond it was a brightly-lit corridor that turned off to the left almost immediately.  The floor was sprinkled with rock and mineral debris, along with shallow puddles of sewage water. 

Dil zipped by me and quietly drew his sword; he peeked around the corner ahead and motioned to me that the way was clear.  I hurried over to him, hefting my crossbow nonetheless, and looked down the rest of the corridor.  It led to a heavy iron door behind which all the voices I could hear were coming from.

Eager now, Dil crept over to the door and after trying it, he swore quietly and began to fumble for something inside his leather jerkin.  He pulled out what looked like a busted stick of metal and leaned over the door.  As he worked, I looked over my shoulder and re-sheathed my crossbow.  I was pretty damn sure that Dil was going to just walk into the room and jump Callik (if that was even remotely possible), and if – _when – he did that, I would be ready with a spell that would even out the odds a bit._

A clean 'click' signaled to me that Dil had successfully picked the lock on the door.  He looked back at me and shoved his pick back into his shirt.  I nodded and he tried the door again.  A single thought rung in my mind as he pulled open the door: this is the stupidest thing I have ever done.

The room beyond was of odd construct.  Right through the center was a shallow trench that divided the room in two; the sewage water flowed in from one end of the room and poured through a grate on the other side.  Planted right in the trench and all the way along its length was a steel gate that reached up to the ceiling.  There were some crates piled up against the far wall.

On the side of the gate that Dil and I had came in on, there were four men in red – one of which was yelling at the people on the other side.  Opposite them (and us), on the other side of the gate, were three other men.  By his stance and position, it could tell which man was being yelled at, though I did not have the time to fully examine anyone before trouble started.

As expected, Dil walked into the room like he owned the place; I considered staying behind but followed him in anyway.  He came to a halt when one of the men in red turned to look at us.

It was the one that had been screaming; he was tall, with broad shoulders and greasy black hair.  He smirked at the sight of us, "What's this, Vengual?"  He asked almost teasingly, his voice gruff, "Admirers?  New recruits?"  He laughed and his three cronies sized Dil and I up.  

I assumed that that was Callik.  As such, I allowed myself a moment and looked over to the other side of the gate.  The man standing in the forefront was almost a caricature; with a neatly-trimmed goatee and pointed, graying mustache, wide, mid-calf boots and elegant garb, he was not someone that would go unnoticed.

"Why, hello there Dil, my boy!"  The eccentric man called out cheerily as I stared at him.  By the sheer charisma this man exuded in his voice and dress, I came to the conclusion that he was the precious Vengual.

Dil frowned and held Callik's dark gaze, "What's going on, Vengual?"  He asked his patron without turning, "The whole district is looking for you.  What in the nine Hells are you doing down here with _him?"  He demanded, his fingers flexing around the hilt of his sword at his side._

Vengual laughed, "Why I thought I'd come to make a deal, my dear boy."  He answered, his voice betraying no anxiety or fear or anything besides good-natured amusement.  I have to admit I was a tad confused at this point.  I was expecting to find Vengual bound and gagged.  Or dead.

"What deal?"  Dil snapped at once, "You'd—"  He started but he was roughly cut off by Callik, who unsheathed his sword and shot him a dire glare.

"None of your business, maggot!"  The tall rogue barked and shoved Dil's shoulder.  The half-elf bounced back at once, snarling.  Callik's three men instantly unsheathed their own weapons and moved towards Dil.

At the sight, I turned to look at Vengual.  The man was staring at me.  He tilted his head in Callik's direction and made a chop gesture at his throat.  I looked over at Callik; he was staring at me and his men were restraining Dil.  Oh God.  He saw me, didn't he?  I looked over at Vengual again and the man just smiled at me.  Beside me, Callik had followed my gaze.  Oh God.

No choice _now…_

I mumbled a few words and before me appeared an armored skeleton; the creature dashed out at Callik, heavy sword in its polished-bone grip.  Behind Callik, Dil cried out and there was commotion.  I hurried to get out of the way and backed myself up against the gate in the center of the room.  I racked my brain and found a second spell that would be of use – even moderately – and began to cast.  When I reached the climax of my incantation, I waved my arm out at the feuding men and waited.  Barely a second later, two of the three men on Dil turned on each other and the other went after Dil.

I pulled out my crossbow and frowned.  The group of men, minus my skeleton, were now under the effects of a Chaos spell and would randomly attack whatever is nearest to them.  I would have to stay out of the way until the effects ran out, and pray that Dil would be the last one standing.

Callik's minion was no match for Dil and the half-elf cut him down in exactly three hits.  Like a crazed man, Dil went on to the next-closest person – Callik.  The tall rogue spun around to face Dil just as he sent my skeleton crumbling to the floor under a flurry of hard blows.  Further down from them, the remaining two of Callik's men hacked madly away at one-another; one of them had a bloodied side.

Callik could hit _hard.  When he spun on Dil, he swung his blade in a sharp upward, backhanded diagonal sweep and Dil had just the reflexes to jump back out of its way before it neatly severed his arm and part of his shoulder.  From my vantage point, I could almost __feel the momentum of that swing.  Dil jumped right back into it, of course, and attacked Callik with a series of almost teasing pokes and thrusts.  The half-elf's show of finesse swordsmanship was wasted, however, as Callik's own counters were bent on disarming and overpowering.  The tall rogue lord fought like a man pressed with time; every time his blade met Dil's he would swing outwards forcefully, and as soon as Dil left himself open in the slightest or hesitated a moment, Callik would launch a cleaving swing that Dil would have to scramble to avoid.  _

A cry from the side pulled my attention from Callik and Dil.  One of Callik's two men had killed the other and the victor was heading in my direction.  I hefted my crossbow and fired; the heavy bolt knifed through the air and buried itself in the oncoming man's throat.  I breathed a sigh of relief and watched him drop to the ground.  As quickly as I could, I then strung up a second bolt and returned my attention to Dil and Callik.

I danced about until I was behind Callik.  When his broad, red-clothed back was in plain sight I fired.  Callik roared as the bolt bit into his flesh…it was enough to give Dil all the time in the world to finish him off.  And he did.  All I saw was a slender blade burst through Callik's back and pull right back out again; then the rogue lord fell to the floor in a heap and I was left facing Dil – who was soaked in sewage water, sprinkled with blood, and panting.  He looked up at me and spun his sword.

Alright…and apparently still under my Chaos spell, too.

Dil grinned and dashed for me, leaping over Callik's motionless body.  I scrambled back towards the far wall, spouting the words to a dispelling dweomer.  The spell went off just as I backed myself against the wall; Dil, who was by then but a few feet from me, stopped dead in his tracks and frowned deeply, the effects of Chaos lifting.  There was a moment of silence, and then a voice called out.

"Well done, well done, well _done!"  Vengual cried, clapping, from off to the side._

My chest heaving and my mouth still open, I looked over in the direction of the gate and just stared, unable to find anything to say.  Before me, Dil regained his senses and shot his leader a fierce grin.


End file.
